I Hate Flowers
by GroovyKat
Summary: It has been 5 weeks since Princess was rescued from the flowers abduction. She feels it's time for a heart to heart with Mark to assess their relationship. But who is the woman at his airfield? How does she react when she sees Mark's new friend?


Huge thank you to my beta Goddess, Mona Lisa, who worked harder on editing this story than I did actually writing it. I adore you for spending so much time on this and making it so much fun!

Disclaimer: I don't own Battle of the Planets… I just thought I'd borrow the birdies for a little while.

Rating M for sexual situations, no actual sex though.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o 

I Hate Flowers…

The deep hum of her bike's engine vibrated between her legs as she idled it inside the property line to Mark's airfield. Hidden between a pair of lightly foliaged crabapple trees sat a lone shack. A modest home owned by a modest man. Mark was also the leader of G-Force, the Galaxy's most elite (fighting / defense) force, and her commanding officer.

This marked the third time in as many days that Princess had found herself within walking distance to her Commander's home, and it was likely that it would be the third time that she would turn around and head back to her own home without doing what she felt needed to be done.

'Coward,' she scolded herself, silently laughing at the absurdity of calling herself a coward on any day, given that she was ready and able to throw her life on the line without a thought when called into duty. Cowardice, however, must be why she stayed on her bike instead of marching up to his front door.

There was no other explanation for her hesitation.

Unless she renamed 'cowardice' as 'respect.' Respect for her commanding officer. Respect for his privacy and life outside of the team. Encroaching into his private life this way must be disrespectful to him.

It could simply be acceptance. Acceptance of the fact that he, in turn, respected his third officer as the most dedicated team member. Acceptance of their quirky little relationship in and out of assignments. Acceptance that it really shouldn't move beyond their playful flirtations and secret messaging over the UHF frequencies of their communications bracelets.

Not knowing how or if it should venture beyond platonic smiles and winks – damning respect and acceptance to Hell – was a decision she simply didn't want to make alone.

What if Mark merely cocked an eyebrow at her suggestion to cross over the line between teammates and lovers? That would obviously change the dynamic between them.

She was unsure which would be more embarrassing. If she saw his look of disgust at her suggestion or her finding out later how hard he laughed with Jason about it behind her back? Being the lone team female was hard enough with the boys constantly riding her in one way or another because of her 'girlish' ways. Having to deal with all of them laughing at her behind her back because she thought for an instant Mark was interested, when he was only humoring her, would be torture.

She wouldn't be able to deal with the humiliation. Not now, not ever.

It had become harder to spend night after night alone in her queen-sized bed, wondering if Mark might be inclined to lie in it with her. What if the next time she fell into Zoltar's clutches she died, never knowing if Mark felt more about her than he ever admitted or dared show? She wanted to know and drove over here to find out once and for all, yet here she sat in fear of the answer.

Only a handful of weeks earlier marked the team's rescue of her from that fierce flower Hell. A handful of weeks for mental and physical recovery should have been sufficient. It was, to the base shrinks, more than enough time to forget about her abduction, mind torture and proposed death. A handful of drugs had been prescribed. Princess hid the pills under her tongue in the Medical Lab before spitting them into the nearest receptacle. Drugs never helped. She distanced herself through composing a mountain of intelligence reports for the Federation bigwigs. The typed words and numbers failed to erase the memory of her teammates' reactions at their reunion in the Spectran base.

"_It's good to have you back." _

Mark's reaction, plain and simple, said with a slight smile and without physical contact. No hug. No arm around her shoulder. No hand grasping her wrist. Meanwhile, the rest of the team rushed her, even the usually standoffish Jason, to embrace and touch and show how grateful they felt in her being returned alive and unharmed to them.

These memories cut her far deeper than any mecha's blade.

And yet… she truly believed in their special bond. His over-protectiveness in the field and concerned looks across the command deck meant something, anything, more than what they had. Private interludes were forbidden yet their connection remained strong. He harbored more than a leader's concern for his subordinate's wellbeing. She proved a significant partner in more than combat. She knew it. He knew it. Didn't he?

"_It's good to have you back."_

It would have hurt less than if he'd slapped her across the face and chastised her for putting the whole team in danger. At least it would have shown he actually gave a shit.

She had yet to sit down with the guys and talk about the mission's affect upon everyone. Debriefing yielded more than enough to digest. She learned Mark had agreed to end her life in order to save the planet. Then she'd been hauled off to the infirmary for a battery of tests she insisted unnecessary.

Surprisingly, the Spectrans hadn't been as physically or mentally invasive as the Federation in their treatment of her. Beyond rough treatment and uncomfortable conditions, Spectra showed remarkable consideration.

Spectra and consideration… there were two words that didn't belong in the same sentence/paragraph/report.

She quirked a bitter smile at the absurdity of war. Consideration from the enemy, inconsideration from the ally. Perhaps she was on the wrong side?

Before she had a chance to mentally berate herself for her thoughts,

Fear kept her sitting on her bike instead of knocking on that damned door. An engine of a rather expensive little sports car whirred arrogantly closer, ending her internal debate. She flicked her attention at the car, surprised then wary as it idled up beside her.

A darkly tinted window rolled down and a brunette batted impossibly long lashes at her.

"Hi, I am so sorry to bother you, but can you tell me if this is Mark Anderson's airfield?"

Princess inhaled sharper than she intended and sat bolt upright. She forced a smile and tilted her head. "Mark?"

The woman shook out her long hair and stretched a coy, glossy pink, smile across her face. "Yes. I'm a little lost. He said it was off Highway 2, but I haven't seen any signs to tell me where I am."

Her voice sent a jealous pang down Princess' spine. A woman of this caliber was much more suited to Jason than Mark. Surely he was immune to the siren call of the ditzy knockout.

"Um." She raised her eyes to the front door of Mark's shack. The man in question stood outside and stared at them, shielding his eyes against the sun. His attire, a skin-tight grey muscle shirt and black jeans, suggested that he was far from immune. She could count on one hand the amount of times she'd seen him out of G-Force civilian clothing. He was clearly making an effort.

"I think he's expecting you." Princess heard her own disappointment. Mark approached at a fast trot, obviously in a hurry to cut this meeting short.

"Oh, Mark! I never thought I'd find the place." The woman sounded relieved and her next actions, by leaping out of her car and into his arms, left no doubts. "There's no cell reception out here," she babbled, "the signs are non-existent, my tech didn't fix the GPS, and I hadn't seen a gas station for miles! Are you hiding from somebody?"

Mark openly accepted her hug and laughed between her double-kissing his flushing cheeks. "Lisa!" he managed, still avoiding Princess' wide-eyed stare. "I'm glad you found me. I was getting worried myself."

Princess felt seven shades of embarrassed. Her hand shook on the throttle of her bike as she began to step her bike backwards for escape. She paused when Mark stuttered her name in surprise.

"Princess, what… what are you doing here?" He looked between the two women.

She had to think quick. "I was riding and thinking and, uh, I got lost?"

That wasn't a convincing excuse, even to her.

Mark's eyebrows shot upwards. "Really?" he asked, a doubtful tilt of his head.

She managed one of her best shy smiles. "Yeah, I guess I wasn't paying attention. I… have a few things on my mind right now." She shrugged. "It's easy to get sidetracked, you know."

Mark's brow was firmly stuck skyward. He inclined his chin toward his shack while keeping his eyes on Princess. "Lisa, go on in and make yourself comfortable. I'll only be a minute here."

Lisa purred over her shoulder as she sashayed towards his home, "Not too long, Mark. I've only got a couple of hours before I have to be back in town."

The urge to venomously spit a carefully phrased insult was strong, but Princess held it together enough to shift her gaze back to her Commander. His look, full of concern, pierced her.

"Is everything okay, Princess?"

Her mind screamed a litany of curses at him, demanding to know who, why, when and how of this woman. She must have been silent for longer than she thought, because he gently prodded her with a concerned sigh of her name.

She shook her head. "I… I'm sorry, Mark. I should go." She finished with a hard rev of her bike's engine.

He placed his hand on the speedometer gauge in an attempt to stop her. "Do you need to talk?"

His soft voice invited yet she shook her head. She knew she wouldn't be able to stop stammering once she started.

He stepped from in front of her bike to stand beside her. His hand lifted and cupped her jaw, his fingers half buried in her wind-blown hair. "I doubt you'd be here if something wasn't wrong, Prin."

She resisted the urge to close her eyes and lean in to his hand. Instead, she lightly pulled away from him. "I just lost my way, that's all."

His hand remained up, inches from her face. With a disappointed sigh, he let it fall to his hip. "Is this about what happened, with the flowers?"

Princess' head jerked backwards in shock. That wasn't exactly why she was here, although that might just work to get her a reprieve from hearing about his new girlfriend.

Her relief came in an excited hiss, "Yeah, yeah, the flowers. I… I just wanted to, you know, talk with a friend for a change." She smiled innocently. "The shrink doesn't understand how it is out there."

Mark didn't buy the change in attitude, nor the excuse. There was something deeply troubling her and, whether or not it had anything to do with the flowers, he intended on getting to the bottom of it. "Did you want to meet up later?"

"No." She jutted her chin towards his shack. "You've got plans. I'll just…" she sighed. "I'm okay. Really." She hoped her fake smile would convince him.

"I'll come by later tonight. I can see you've got something on your mind."

She dismissively flicked her hand, and her eyes, away from him. "Don't bother yourself. I was bored, that's all. I might go and watch Jason race."

"Jason's racing today?"

She sighed in relief at the easy change of subject. Men and machines. "He's up against Tango-1 on the old airstrip outside of town."

"Tango-1? Wow, he'd have to be pretty stoked. I'm surprised that he hasn't posted signs at the base."

She giggled. "He did. I guess you've been," she flicked her eyes to his shack, "a little preoccupied."

This time, Mark caught her motion towards his visitor's whereabouts. "Lisa? Yeah, I guess she's been keeping me pretty busy." He groaned and stretched his back with a self-satisfied smile. "Exhausting, I tell you. But amazing. You should try it."

Princess coughed, "TMI, Commander."

"Huh?"

She shuddered and twisted the bike throttle. The bike revved aggressively. "What is it with guys?"

Mark seemed genuinely puzzled. "Us guys?"

"You and Jason are dogs." She yanked her shoulders back and puffed out her impressive bust line into Mark's face. "See these? Boobs are a defining feature on my body that indicates I am NOT one of the guys."

"I don't…"

She shushed him. "I don't want, or need, to know how much you're _getting_."

Mark seemed stumped for something to say. His mouth opened and closed, eyes locked on her proudly displayed chest. "I don't understand."

She groaned over the fact he was still staring at her breasts. She levered his chin upwards with her forefinger. "Eyes, Mark. Go on back inside to your girlfriend. Don't bother coming over later, because I doubt very much I'll be home."

"Girlfriend?"

She pulled an elaborately decorated helmet over her hair and hovered her hand over the visor. "Perhaps I should use my rank and position to score, too. What do you think?"

She dropped the visor without waiting for an answer and tilted her body and bike to one side to tear off down the road. She ensured that the loose gravel on the shoulder kicked up at him and the sports car.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o 

"Cess, I don't know. Are you sure that you saw what you think you saw?"

Princess sighed unhappily as she watched her friend wipe down the small circular table in front of her. "I'm pretty sure, Jill. He looked, and smelled so good…"

Fearing that her friend was about to go on a long winded swooning description, Jill called for a tequila shot from the bar tender. "Not what I would normally recommend, but I think it's a far better option than what you're thinking."

Princess crossed her legs at the thigh, straightening her posture on the tall stool. "And just _what_ do you think I'm thinking?"

"What every other woman considers when she gets a broken heart."

Princess coughed in disgust. "Why would you think I'd even consider it?"

Jill smirked. "We've all been there, Cess. I've been working at bars for over five years and I've seen more broken hearts than you could imagine. Every one of them had one mission in mind."

"Not me," she huffed arrogantly in response.

"No, of course not," Jill remarked as she looked her friend up and down. "The scrap of material you call a skirt and the nipple shirt you're wearing are for what reason, exactly?"

Princess shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

Jill gave a quick sweep of the bar with her eyes then leaned on the table in front of Princess. "Look, honey. I know how you feel. It sucks when this kind of thing happens. But going out and prowling for a one night stand is not going to make you feel any better."

Princess threw back the shot of Hot TQ tequila and wiped at the side of her mouth with her fingertip. "I thought sex was the ultimate way to feel good about yourself?"

The manner with which Princess spoke made Jill stop wiping the table. "The only person that could possibly believe that is someone who has never…." She clapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh, no. No. No. No. Princess, this is not happening tonight, and it sure as hell is not happening in my bar."

Princess waved her fingers in a 'come here' manner to the bar tender. "Another shot, Steve. Oh, actually you'd better bring a few. It'll save you having to keep coming back and forth."

Jill rubbed at a growing migraine. "Please, Cess. Don't do this, please. This just isn't the right…" she paused in embarrassment, "_circumstance_ for your first, uh, y'know."

Princess shrugged, watching a trio of men drinking around the pool table. "It's better than the other ways it could happen, Jill. At least this way I have some kind of choice." She turned her head back to Jill. "The next Spectran Commander might not be so kind."

"I'm calling Mark." Jill sounded panicked. " You two talk this out in the private room upstairs." Her head dipped in a pleading manner. "Free drinks. All night."

Princess looked over the rim of the shot glass at Jill. "Mark?" she hissed and threw back her third shot of the evening. "Mark is the last person I need to see."

"Mark _is_ the person you need to see the most."

One of the trio slouched against the pool table and openly eyed Princess in invitation. She ducked her head, giggling. "Who are they?"

Frowning, Jill leaned in close. "Please, Cess. Not them."

Princess teased the straw in her mixer of Tequila and Sprite. "Are they bad, bad boys, Jill? They look civilian, unlike your normal crowd from the Federation."

Jill swiped at an empty shot glass in frustration. "Footballers. Not the type to treat a girl right – if you get my drift." She dropped the glass onto a black bar tray. "If you want to really upset Mark, then take Jason into your bed instead of wasting your time with one of them."

Princess' eyes widened. "Really? Why not Tiny?"

"Oh you know why and we've had that debate. Look, I can't stop you, Cess. You're treading on dangerous ground with this stupid vendetta of yours. If you go through with it," Jill closed her eyes, "then be careful. Jason would never hurt you. But a stranger, these guys…." Her shrug failed to be nonchalant.

"Hey, I'm the Swan." Princess squeezed Jill's shoulder. "I can take care of myself. I have the moves." She playfully punched at the air.

Jill moaned, "I doubt you've ever fought after four shots and three tequilas." She lightly put her hand over Princess' fist. "Please talk to Mark first."

Princess patted then removed Jill's hand before relishing the last shot of tequila. "And let him shoot me down because _Lisa _is just so incredibly _exhausting_ and _amazing_? No, for once in my life I want to feel amazing. I want a man to want _me_ for a change."

"Mark does want you, Cess." Jill yanked at her hair in frustration. "I've never seen a man want a woman so much."

Princess snorted. "Except Tiny, when a pretty girl walks past." She nudged her pal. "He's the biggest horndog. If he had to choose between free Space Burgers for life and ten minutes with Miss Galaxy — "

"I'm being serious."

"And you think I'm not?"

Jill tilted her head. "No, you're being foolish. You've got choices. Be patient."

Princess drooped in apparent defeat. "You win, Jill. I will stop this reckless behavior and you can call Mark for a D'N'M with me in the private room — on one condition."

Jill's eyes lit up. "Great! Anything you want."

"If you can tell me that you've never, ever, done this yourself."

"Not fair."

"Bet's off." Princess stood up and straightened her skirt. She waved at the waiting pool player. "I know what I'm doing, Jill. Sleeping with Jason might destroy the team and neither of us wants that. Those guys are civvies. They have a normal life thanks to me. Tonight one of them can help me enjoy being a normal girl."

Jill watched Princess slink over to the pool table. The largest of the players instantly slung his arm around her waist and ordered more drinks.

Sighing, Jill headed for the back office and Mark's number. "Normal isn't special, honey, and that's what you are."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o 

Heavy, wet lips scraped heavily along her jaw. Breath, hot and fueled by tequila shots, coursed bitterly over her face and chin as he snarled and clumsily pawed at her bare thigh.

"You… are so hot, baby."

Although the words were said as a series of low grunts, and in a Neanderthal ritualistic way, they were close to forming the greatest compliment she'd received in a long while. It made the wandering mouth and hands seem a little less aggressive knowing that this big lug, Paul, found her so sexually appealing.

It was about time someone did.

She opened her mouth to respond in a similar fashion, but found herself unable to voice the thought in her head. She didn't find him _hot_ in the purely aesthetic sense. He was big, thick and dumb looking – the complete opposite of the man she'd normally admire. She didn't want to lie and say something to him that wasn't necessarily true. The alcohol may have been very good at making her physical inhibitions falter, but unfortunately it wouldn't allow her tongue to do the same. She made do with a high-pitched moan and hoped that would be sufficient.

His hand skimmed the outside of her thigh. She trembled. "You are so fuckin' sexy. You get me so hot." His fingers toyed with the edge of her underwear.

Her gasp hitched into a moan. She was officially in uncharted territory and, although nervous, the experience thrilled and emboldened her. She didn't know her body could respond like _this_.

Needing breathing room, she playfully pushed him away and regained her equilibrium by straightening her impossibly micro leatherette mini-skirt. "Now, now, Tiger," she purred more to hide her own uncertainty than to sound sexy. "We don't want to finish this night off so early, do we? I'm just getting started."

"So am I," Paul growled and pressed his whole body against her, wedging them into the corner between the bar and wall. "C'mon, babe, let's blow this joint and go back to your place."

She gulped uneasily as his mouth claimed her neck. This wasn't as easy as the boys made it out to be.

"Mmmm," she hummed, thinking of a response that would allow her to stay in a populated area a little bit longer. "I don't want to leave the music just yet."

He chuckled roughly into her neck, tracing her bra with his daring fingertips. "I can work with this rhythm."

She lowered her head to check the location of his knee. It pushed between her thighs, a firm presence, or was that…? She closed her eyes and arched her neck. Not entirely unpleasant if this was as far as they went.

His hand propped her leg atop his hip. "It's not like I haven't done this before."

Her eyes flew open. Was he suggesting they actually do _it _in the bar? Her first time, up against a wall, in front of —

Beneath her bangs she saw two of her teammates, wide-eyed in a booth not far enough away. Tiny looked shocked while Jason… The only reason he wasn't beating her would-be lover into a bloody pulp was because Tiny blocked his exit.

Instead of freezing, she found their presence gave her more of an incentive. No doubt their whispers at base tomorrow would easily reach Mark's ears. Time to really put on a show.

She swiped the hair from her eyes — all the better to see with. She sizzled a sultry look across the room. Tiny sputtered and glanced away. She aggressively cupped Paul's face and pulled his mouth onto hers, eyes still cast over his unsuspecting shoulder. Her gaze locked onto Jason, as his did hers. Through the smoky club haze, she watched Jason's expression darken. He never broke their stare. His emotions deepened and raged in horrific speed across his face, a wildfire out of control and she burned. He was...

Shuddering, she broke the kiss and expelled a shaky breath, ready to back away, realizing she was indeed over her head. Then she saw Jason flinch, a flash of conflict reflected in his eyes. His lip curled in a typical Condor sneer. The raw nakedness of _something_ best left unnamed vanished beneath the familiar mask.

His reaction reenergized her. Two could play games and she had much bigger stakes than he did tonight. What might this do? She trailed the spike of her black stiletto heel up Paul's corduroyed leg. He pressed into her, groaning. She closed her eyes, blotting Jason out of sight, and poured more sexual energy into another kiss. She drowned beneath the wave of sensations. She felt good and it had been so long since she had felt anything at all. Her eager companion swallowed her moan of surprise.

She heard a grunt — Tiny, straining to hold onto…. CRASH! Glass shattered as Jason found an alternative exit from the booth, straight across the tabletop.

She heard the roar of Paul's buddies delaying her would-be rescuer. A pool table had too many weapons for such a handy fellow. Tiny would be on Jason's heels, leaving precious little time for her getaway. Do or die time. One more shot of Dutch… no, _Mexican _courage and she'd be gone before her chivalrous teammate claimed her.

"Jill?" she purred around the head of her companion, who sucked at her collarbone. "A couple for the road?" She lazily smiled.

"I think you've had enough."

Definitely not Jill. Princess stiffened. "I'll decide when I've had enough," she snarled, eyes flashing open to stare down the bouncer for the evening. Familiar blue eyes froze her in place.

"Uh-oh," she whispered at Tiny and Jason taking up flanking positions on either side of their Commander.

Mark shifted his glare to Princess' companion, whose hand remained beneath her belly top. "Please take your hands off her." He delivered his polite request in calm, quiet, measured tones. Not in the heated demand of a possessive lover.

A snarl from Jason punctuated the request and gave it the oomph Mark seemed unable or unwilling to give it.

Paul slowly drew himself from her, but did little more than give Mark a sideways glance. "Get in line, buddy. I'm first."

Mark blinked. To his right, Jason growled a deadly laugh, primed to take a piece off this fool. Mark flexed his arm upward. His flattened palm against Jason's chest stopped his second's advance.

"He's mine."

Other than two words and the hand motion, Mark made no real outward action. To anyone else, it could have seemed like he was ready to shrug it off and walk away. Princess knew better and slowly began to unpeel herself from Paul. He had other ideas.

Princess gasped, shocked by the aggressive hand shoved up her shirt.

Mark sprang into action.

Even she didn't see the shift in muscle that thrust Mark's hand into Paul's hair, dragging him by the hair off her in a movement so quick it rivaled lightning.

"I don't think you heard me," Mark snarled low enough to chill Princess. "I asked you to take your hands off her. I did say, please."

Jason snorted. Tiny cracked his knuckles.

Princess rolled her eyes. "Mark…"

A flick of his eyes to hers froze her. She recognized his icy anger.

Her would-be lover pulled himself out of Mark's hold and staggered drunkenly back towards Princess. He pressed her against the wall again, in frustration not passion. "She's made her choice, man. Back off and find your own." Finding courage through defiance, he asked Princess, "So, here or your place?"

Again, Mark seized him by the hair, only this time snapping his head down forcefully enough to make the young man grunt in pain. "I'm not a man you really want to fuck with," he growled into Paul's ear, all the while keeping his eyes firmly on Princess.

Her three teammates' altering glances in her direction did unsettle her, but she gamely acted unimpressed. She slouched against the wall and folded her arms over her breasts. Behind Tiny's head, she glimpsed Paul's dazed and confused friends sprawled across and crawling beneath the pool table. A chipped 8-ball tipped her off on Jason's chosen weapon.

The other show kept playing on her left. "I play football, man. I'll kick your scrawny ass." He made a clumsy swipe at Mark.

Mark caught Paul's hand on the upswing then walked him hard up against the same wall Princess slouched against. Mark's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I kill Spectran goons and destroy alien mechas. A football player should be nice and easy."

Paulgave a stunned gasp as his eyes focused upon the group. Mark stood regally in front, looking down his nose at him. Behind on Mark's right snarled Jason, dark brows lowered and shoulders hunched, poised to pounce. Behind on Mark's left stood Tiny, with puffed chest and more attention for Princess than him. Princess hung her head low, eyelids fluttering. Although she projected annoyance, her posture screamed sorrow.

The gravity of the situation dawned along with the sobering identity of the foursome surrounding him.

He skittered sideways, hands up. "I did NOT know who she was, I swear. I would never have touched her if I'd known. I don't go near another man's property, man." He choked. "Especially yours… sorry, man."

Her would-be companion escaped. Princess watched the way her three boys followed his exit with their eyes. Irritated and embarrassed by their male chauvinistic intervention, she felt compelled to curl her lip in complete disgust at all of them.

"You guys make me ill."

Mark's attention snapped to her. He stepped close, his face inches from hers. "This is not the way to do it, Princess."

She blinked. "Do _what_, Mark?"

"Forget it," he answered, barely audible over the music. "This is not the way to forget it."

She couldn't help it. She laughed. "Oh, Mark. You just don't get it, do you?" She spread her gaze between the three of them. "Is this what you guys think this is all about?"

Jason grunted. Tiny shrugged. Mark tilted his chin, backing up.

"I don't want you to do anything you'll regret, Princess."

She rolled her eyes and walked past him, knocking shoulders deliberately. "Too late, Mark. I regret nothing more than the day I met you."

She pushed through Jason and Tiny to leave the club. She listened hard enough to hear Jason ask Mark what the hell he'd done to upset her, but not enough to hear his answer. She wanted out of that place.

It wasn't until she stepped out the door that she realized the level of her intoxication. The air, chilled by heavy rain, was like a slap across the face. She stumbled on spiked heels into the street. The rain instantly attacked her from all directions, each droplet feeling like a hard jab on her electric nerves.

Rain.

Her breath caught.

Wasn't it the rain that began this whole nightmare?

Shaking, she twisted around, half expecting to see giant flowers on the attack.

Her eyes spied a waterlogged daisy, jerking with each raindrop. Flowers….

"I hate flowers!" she screamed. She leapt the curb and squashed the tiny yellow flower under her foot. Her shoe slipped in the mud. She fell onto hands and knees before the crumpled daisy. She pounded at it with her fists and voice. "I. Hate. Flowers." The mud splashed into her face, like blood from the flower.

"I was happy with the way it was before you," she shrieked at the pulverized little bloom. "I was happier not knowing," she whispered, before collapsing into sobs. She lay in the mud, an undignified heap lost near a broken flower.

A jacket draped over her shoulders. He dropped onto one knee, pants mud-caked, and plucked her from the ground. She lacked the will and energy to pull away. She lay in his arms, a dead weight for him to carry back to his car.

He stayed silent as her tears soaked his shirt. His hold neither comforted nor frightened. He transported her from ground to car seat then slammed the door shut. She crumpled against the passenger window, watching the rain on the other side of the glass.

_God, what had she done…_

Mark settled himself in the drivers seat. He turned slightly towards her. It appeared that he was going to say something. He shook his head and started the engine, looking backwards over his shoulder to reverse out of the parking spot.

She could see the pain in his eyes. Pain. Anger. Frustration. Emotion hardened his eyes. Tears did not fall, but his arms shook and she saw the depth of how her words and actions had upset him.

She wiped her muddy hand across her face, vainly trying to peel a stringy strand of hair off her cheek. "I'm sorry."

His eyes blinked back the sudden shine caught in his eyelashes. He briefly dropped his eyes to the gearshift and a single tear trickled down his right cheek.

As intense as the urge to wipe away his tear was, she resisted. She closed her eyes and quietly wept into her own hands.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o 

She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she heard was the soft squeal of brakes and Mark climbing out of the vehicle.

She shrank in the seat not daring to look at him when he opened her door.

"Come with me," he said softly, but in a tone to suggest she'd better not argue.

She reluctantly followed, pulling his jacket closer around herself as the damp wind blew coldly at her wet and bare legs. Her own shame caused her not to notice the surroundings and where Mark had taken her. It wasn't until she heard him speak that their location dawned on her.

"The bathroom is through there. Take a shower, and I'll make you a coffee."

"Mark, why are we here?"

He raised his hands to shush her. "Please, just do as I ask."

She dropped her head and nodded. A shower was, perhaps, the best thing for her right now.

"Okay." She walked towards the shower, turning back to him before closing the door. "Mark, I…"

"Just do it," he interrupted softly. "Please."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o 

The alcohol must have really worked a number on her usual alertness, because she certainly didn't hear Mark enter the bathroom to leave her a clean towel and one of his #1 t-shirts to wear.

She gladly pulled the warm, dry shirt over her head.

Her hand hovered for a few seconds on the door handle, hesitant to open it and face Mark. Eventually she bit the bullet and opened the door.

Mark sat on a well-worn armchair. He was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees and chin in his steepled fingers. He didn't look up at her, standing beside him, but indicated a matching armchair in front of him with a wave of his hand.

She followed his direction and sat in the chair, pulling her legs up to tuck them under her hip.

"Talk to me, Princess."

There was pain in his voice she'd never heard before. "I don't know where to begin."

He let his eyes look up at her and held her gaze. "How about we begin with tonight? Princess, what happened?"

She bit at her top lip and looked to the side, trying to create a plausible explanation that didn't involve her jealousy at him having a girlfriend sparking a series of explosive decisions. "I had a little too much to drink, I guess."

"You're usually much more in control than that, Princess."

Her head tilted toward her shoulder, which rose innocently to meet with her cheek. "We all lose our control eventually, Mark."

He firmly shook his head. "No, not like that. Not you."

She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply to counteract the spinning of her head. "Perhaps, for once, I wanted to lose control."

"Why?"

"To know what it's like."

He nodded. "I guess I can understand that." He frowned. "Although I think you probably lost a little _too_ much control."

She shrugged. "I could have, and would have, stopped if _I _thought for a moment _I_ was out of control." She slouched back in the chair. "I didn't need the G-Force Knights in Feathered Armor to rescue me."

"I disagree."

She let out a short laugh, eyes on the ceiling, walls, floor — anywhere but meeting that patient, sad, blue-eyed gaze. "Of course _you_ would. You're the King of the Knights."

His brows furrowed, "So what? We care about what happens to you. I didn't want to see you get in a situation that you wouldn't be able to get out of."

She was silent for a second, debating on whether or not to say what had been on her mind for such a long time. Finally, she surrendered and let the building emotion sweep her away.

"Is that what you were worried about? I was in over my head? Or was it that your smitten little Swan was getting affection from another man?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." She rubbed a hand along her face, desperate to stop her head from spinning off her neck. "Why is it that you guys can go out and get all the tail you want, but when I try, you get all Neanderthal on me?"

Mark leaned a cheek on his fist, staring at her. He seemed to be having difficulty in finding a starting place. Then his eyes cleared. "I don't know, exactly, what stories you've been hearing, but this whole 'tail' business isn't as rampant as you think."

She laughed again, now meeting his eyes. "Oh, please! I hear you whispering with Tiny and Jason. I feel it every time I walk in to the room and am obviously interrupting some juicy recounting of your latest conquest. The three of you shut up or change the subject. Even Keyop knows something is up."

Not amused, Mark asked her, "When, do you think, would I have the time to go out chasing girls?" She opened her mouth, but he felt the need to continue without letting her speak. "Jason talks, but he's definitely no playboy. Even when he does find the time and the woman, he's a clam. I can't get anything out of him and that's a problem with his knack for falling in love with Spectran spies. Meanwhile Tiny is still hung up on Alice, if you remember. She demands he tell her everything about his life, where he goes, what that bracelet is for — and you know why he can't. But he won't give up and keeps calling her. So, if you've interrupted any conversations lately, Princess, it has been about _you _and your abduction and how we're dealing with it. We're suffering too. We just didn't want to burden you with it."

Her mouth pursed into an unspoken 'O'.

"Speaking of your abduction. What happened to you tonight, in the rain, has me worried."

She arched a disappointed brow. "Typical, change the subject."

He raised a finger in warning. "It's obvious you haven't fully recovered from your abduction. I'm going to suggest that you are grounded until we can get a full psych work up done on you."

"There have been three of them done, already, Commander," she said in a perfect monotone. "Despite what that pathetic excuse for a drug peddler might put in a report, I know that flowers aren't exactly my problem right now."

"Oh no?" he asked rhetorically. "Then why did I find you wallowing in mud attacking a harmless flower?" He let his fist fall from his chin, but kept his elbows on his knees. "Princess, you can't possibly expect me to believe you're not still having some reaction to it, and I simply can't risk you falling apart like you did tonight in the middle of a mission."

She exhaled hard and turned away from him, screwing up her face so as not to cry. "That's why, the reason you whisked me away from the club to your house. So you could tell me how I'm a detriment to the team and you don't trust me —"

"Don't put words in my mouth, Princess," he interrupted, a flash of anger.

She continued as if he'd not spoken. "Here I was thinking you did give a shit about Princess the woman, not the Swan and your damn team."

"Don't you even…" he stopped, finally digesting her rant. The accusation forced him to clear his throat of a lump and change gears abruptly. "I don't understand, Princess. What makes you think I don't care?"

"It's good to have you back," she quoted quietly, eliciting a slow tilt of the head from Mark, searching his memory. "I was missing, presumed dead, for three days. And that was the best you could come up with."

"Jesus, Princess," he sighed softly. "That's not how I…"

"I mean, I honestly thought you and I had something, you know?" Now was the time to get it out. And it was better to just let it all spew out before he could interrupt. The alcohol, although wearing off, made it easier. "For those three days all I could think about was you and how I never got the chance to let you know how I felt. I thought I was going to die, and all I wanted was to tell you…!"

She sniffled, blinking clear of tears. "I wanted to tell you, to make sure you knew, how much I feel for you."

His mouth opened and closed, lost for something to say.

She continued, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Since I was fifteen years old, you and I have flirted and shared something I thought was so much more than what it really is. We shared secrets, winks, glances and even that kiss under the mistletoe last Christmas." She sniffed, unable to look at him. "I believed in _us_ so strongly that it was the only thing that got me through my ordeal. Then when I am finally rescued, everyone else is so happy to see me. Except you… I'm waiting for you to hold me… or something… and all I get is, 'It's good to have you back.' Next time, a plaque would be just as warm."

His face creased in regret.

"Do you have any idea how much that hurt, Mark?"

She still couldn't look at him, but her eyes went wide on a wall-mounted photograph of Mark with Jason, smiling and relaxed. "And then, I try to come to you to talk it through with you, like the shrink suggested. But you!"

She got up, walked to the window and kept her back to him. "I find you've been playing me for the fool while seeing another woman." Her head dropped and she held herself tightly. "At least you could have been up front about it."

He released a long, shaky sigh.

"That," she finished quietly, "is what's really wrong with me. My heart is shattered. I figured I could forget about you by finding love from someone else."

"That lug in the bar wasn't love, Princess."

She jumped and gasped at the proximity of his voice. He was standing directly behind her. She didn't dare turn to face him, not yet.

"What you did with that… guy… tonight. That was dangerous. An accident waiting to happen."

She nodded, shuddering. "I know that now. I was so frustrated and hurt…"

His arms circled around her from behind. "Were you trying to make me jealous?"

Shrugging, she whispered, "Yes." She turned around.

He touched his forehead to her head. "It worked," he choked out, arms tightening around her. "Do you know the worst thing about being the Eagle?"

"What?"

"That there is no distinction between Mark and Eagle. No matter what I do, or how I feel, I always have to think like the Eagle. You, Jason, Tiny and Keyop have the luxury of separating yourselves from the team. I don't."

She looked up at him, timidly raising her arms to circle his neck. "I don't understand."

"If I show them that I love you, or any other woman, what do you think will happen?"

She bit her bottom lip. "Spectra goes after her."

He nodded. "The room was full of goons. I couldn't exactly fall to my knees and cry at your feet, because they'd see how I feel." He pressed his lips to her forehead. "But that doesn't mean I didn't want to. God," he sighed, closing his eyes tightly at the memory. "I wanted to."

"You could have come to me after."

"No, I couldn't."

She frowned. "Yes, you could have, and damn you, Mark. You should have."

His head fell on her shoulder. "I thought I'd killed you. I gave the order. I couldn't bear to face you." He inhaled sharply. "I'm so sorry."

"You had no choice. Do you think I don't understand that?"

"That doesn't mean I wasn't blaming myself wondering if there was another choice."

She threaded her fingers through his hear and pulled him tightly to her. "Just tell me: yes or no. Do you love me?"

He lifted his head from her shoulder and stared gently into her face, scanning every inch of her before settling on her eyes. There was no hesitation in his voice as he breathed, "Yes."

Her breath caught as his nose nuzzled against her cheek. His lips carefully sought out hers. He captured her mouth softly, wary that she might hesitate or want to pull away. She didn't and he held her mouth with his for a long few seconds before he released her.

Princess smiled, blushed, and touched her fingers to her mouth. Her smile faltered as she asked the burning question in her mind. "What about Lisa?"

He managed a smile and shook his head gently at her. "She's a sports injury therapist. She's helping me recover from the shoulder injury I got in the last mission. The sessions are hard work, but they're definitely worth it."

"Oh." Her voice was sheepish and quiet. "When you said, 'you should try it,' I thought you meant…" She suddenly felt sick. "Oh, God. All this!"

He felt her fall into him and tightened his hold. "You should have asked."

"I feel so stupid."

He chuckled. "Don't. I would probably have reacted the same way. Actually, I sort've did already tonight. Remember?" he teased her.

She groaned. "I remember. But, Mark, what about us? Where do we go from here?"

He picked her up in his arms and slowly walked the two of them towards his bedroom. "How about we stop playing blind to each other and do what the rest of the world wants us to do?"

She nuzzled into his neck and breathed nervously against his skin. "Tonight?"

He set her on his bed, and kissed her mouth softly. "We sleep."

"You don't want to… um…"

He pressed his finger to her lips and shook his head. "In time, Princess."

Princess smiled and kissed his finger. "Take it slow?"

"Let me buy you flowers and candy, first," he chuckled.

She sighed and settled onto his pillow. "Mark," she corrected him before they drifted off to sleep. "No flowers. I hate flowers."


End file.
